


Lowered Inhibitions

by Johniarty



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (Because they're both drunk), 4.07, Alcohol, Anal Sex, Drinking, Drunk Bruce, Drunk Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pennywayne, Shota, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, drunk Alfred, worried Alfred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 20:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12614836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/pseuds/Johniarty
Summary: After his bender, Bruce comes home to find Alfred waiting and worried sick about him - but Bruce doesn't have the self-control he usually prides himself on. Not after so much champagne.





	Lowered Inhibitions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChloeWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/gifts).



> You know how after you adjust to the temperature of a pool, and you're confident in your swimming ability, it's fun just to get on the diving board and jump in the deep end?
> 
> I've done a VERY good job of keeping my more garbage kinks out of content I make in the Gotham fandom, but tonight's episode finally made me say '... eh, fuck it'. 
> 
> We don't have enough Pennywayne. Not enough people talk about all of the romance between them. And tonight, Bruce was double-fisting wine and champagne so 
> 
> you know
> 
> fuck it 
> 
> have some quick, drunk pennywayne 
> 
> **Author is not condoning drunk copulating or sex with minors, etc etc, the usual disclaimers**

His head spun as he reset the alarm. Bruce’s body felt light and tingly, his face and lips almost entirely numb. The champagne flowed a little too freely at the party but he didn’t care. For the first time in a long time his mind was quiet. 

Bruce grinned as he stumbled toward the stairs. Freedom felt incredible. Killing R’as wasn’t a burden - it was just what he needed to let go of the high expectations he forced upon himself. 

The light in the study clicked on. 

“ _Shit_ ,” he cursed, squinting against the brightness. 

“Had fun tonight, did we?” 

Alfred’s voice felt cold.

“Yes, Alfred, I did - and now I’m going to bed. If you’ll excuse me...”

He moved faster than Bruce had ever seen, gripping him by the uneven lapel of his shirt. Alfred crowded him against the doorframe. Breathless, well in his cups, Bruce blinked up at him.

“You stupid boy - I’ve been worried sick! Won’t answer your bloody phone, no one’s seen you, you waltz in at three in the morning stinking like the inside of a bottle... Anyone could’ve taken advantage of you, could have  _taken_ you!"

“Isn’t - isn’t this what you wanted? Me to play the brat in the public eye so no one... no one would... um. Know about the vigilantism? I’m just doing  _ that _ .” 

Alfred licked his lips. Bruce’s eyes followed his tongue, wondering how he’d taste. This close he could smell whiskey on Alfred - he hadn’t been the only one indulging that night. Champagne was much easier to drink than bourbon, Bruce bet. Maybe if he asked nicely Alfred would let him -

“What if you’d been kidnapped? Assaulted? What if someone lay their hands on you, Bruce? I wouldn’t have known until -”

Bruce cut him off with a rough, sloppy kiss. 

“Mmn… _Shut up_ , Alfred.”

* * *

 

Alfred’s large hand slid up beneath his shirt as he drew Bruce closer, taking control of their embrace. Bruce was warm and soft beneath his fingers, relaxed and drunk and he knew his boy wasn’t thinking right. 

He needed to stop whatever burned between them.

Reluctantly, Alfred pulled back.

“Bruce, we can’t - “

“You said you loved me.”

“God, Bruce, I do.”

“You’d do anything for me.”

“And I mean that.”

“Then shut  _ up  _ and carry me upstairs,” Bruce breathed. “Now.”

The door slammed open. Alfred carried Bruce into the bedroom, squeezing his firm little arse through his slacks. Against him Bruce moaned. His legs tightened around Alfred’s waist for a brief moment, until Alfred pushed him down against the bed. 

“I want you, Alfred.”

“Want me, Bruce?”

He nodded, grinning.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Who’s been teaching my boy such naughty language, eh?” Alfred teased, popping open the buttons on Bruce’s shirt. His bare skin was pale and marred by scars. He’d seen them plenty when he treated Bruce’s injuries, but to have them so close…

“I’ve been learning a few things on my own,” Bruce replied. He grabbed Alfred’s tie and yanked his head down, crushing their lips together. “Don’t make me wait. Fuck me.”

“Hold on, hold on - I can’t get your clothes off with you moving like that… It’s distracting…”

“Tear them open,” Bruce hissed. “I have plenty of clothes. Don’t  _ think _ , Alfred - I need you. I need this.”

Well, if Bruce insisted…

Alfred ripped the seat of his trousers open and shoved his underwear aside. With shaking hands he managed to shove his own pants down. Their skin brushed together and hungry groans slipped from their throats. Reaching over Bruce, Alfred jerked a drawer on the nightstand open and pulled out a bottle of lubricant.

“It'll hurt at first, remember? You’ll have to tell me when to move, how to move, how you like it.”

“I don’t care. Hurry!”

Alfred popped the cap open and slicked his fingers.

* * *

 

Bruce’s muscle relaxed around his fingers. He was ready. Alfred kissed him deeply as he spread the lubricant over the length of his cock and pressed into Bruce. Beneath him Bruce gasped, digging his nails into his back. He’d never felt so full, so hot, so weightless. Alfred wrapped himself around Bruce’s lithe frame, kissing him breathless as his body adjusted. 

“Move,” Bruce managed to slur. “Move, Alfred. Like you used to.”

“Are you sure? It’s been a long time, Bruce. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Fuck me. That’s an order, Alfred.”

“Oh, yes sir. Can’t say no to you, can I?”

Alfred thrust into him, tangling his hands in Bruce’s messy curls. The frame knocked against the wall. Moaning, Bruce met his hips with desperation. Beaded sweat rolled along his skin. His mouth felt dry, his fingers buzzed, he bit Alfred’s lip hard enough to draw blood -

“Take it you missed me?” Alfred’s voice rumbled in his chest. 

“A little,” Bruce panted. “I thought about you all night.”

“Liar. All that liquor and you didn’t think about anyone else with you?”

Bruce let out a breathy giggle. 

“The champagne only made it harder to stay away from home.”

Alfred sat up and pulled Bruce into his lap. His cock slid deeper inside of him and Bruce moaned without restraint. With each sharp snap Bruce bounced on Alfred’s thighs, every ridge rubbing against his nerves.

He wanted to suck scotch off of Alfred’s skin. He wanted to stain the bed with wine in a hedonistic blur of rough sex and drunken delight. More than anything he wanted to see Alfred unhinged and starving for him. 

Too bad all their alcohol was downstairs.

“I bet you’d lick it off my cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Ch-champagne? Yes, yes, I would!”

“What a dirty little thing you are, Bruce. I love it. I love you.”

He’d said it before. Time and time again, reaching through the haze of brainwashing to show Bruce how much he cared. Each private confession lived inside his heart, nurtured in the quiet depths. He’d never said it back, even when Alfred lay dying by his hand.

But god, he’d say it now. While he had the courage, the freedom…

“I love - I love you too, Alfred,” Bruce whispered. “I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone else.”

“Damn right you won’t,” Alfred teased, grinning up at him. He caught Bruce by the wrists and held him down as he pounded his tight little arse, pouring his strength into driving his boy wild. 

Without warning Bruce came over Alfred’s stomach, his back curving as his thighs trembled. His muscles quivered but he didn’t stop - 

Not until he’d milked Alfred dry. 

Bruce rode him hard, ducking down to kiss him again, until Alfred flooded him with his release.

Alfred groaned his name, clinging to him. 

They sat entwined, soaked in sweat, dizzy in their mutual heat, for what seemed like ages until Alfred curled up with Bruce in his arms.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered, lips bushing against Bruce’s ear.

“Next time I’ll call you,” Bruce promised. 

“... Maybe I’ll even share.”


End file.
